NOTE: Sorry for the massive delay, guys. I'm such a terrible procrastinator when it comes to revising and editing. For one, I'm going to answer a question posed in a review. Yes, this is taking some ques from that war and the Vietnam war, but however I'm trying to avoid the Second Jerithian War being too much of an analog of any real war. Also, to make it up to you guys, I'll be doing a codex chapter that explains any terms I've added that had no relevance to the original VC trilogy so far, like new guns, locations, ect. I might consider doing character bios (With faux-potentials just because), but right now I'm presently leaning against the idea to avoid leaning too far towards telling instead of showing.

Also, if the base of viewers gets large enough, then I might possibly consider doing a lemon, of course in a way that doesn't detract from the plot of course and isn't just there purely for fanservice. If I'm going to do a lemon, I want it to feel relevant to the story and character development. Personally I hate lemons that are just there purely for the sake of boners and pointless 50-shades erotica. I promise you, if I ever do a lemon in this story, it is going to be in a way that helps the story become more mature, and serve the story. But that's IF this gets a large enough base of viewers. I don't want to risk losing viewcount from raising the rating, hell, I'm bordering on something that should have had a higher rating from the start.

But with no further ado, here is the long awaiting Chapter 7, delayed purely because of my laziness.


Act 1/Chapter 7 – The Jerithian Offensive

With Haas firmly out of the picture Gallia began to focus its force on directly assisting the Federation against Jerithia's army. Weakened from fighting the ALF, the Federation and Gallia suffered multiple humiliating defeats at the hand of the Jerithian Army. By the 27th of November, a mere four days after Haas' declared death, the Jerithian invasion force was less than one hundred kilometers from Avietan's capital, slaughtering anyone who wasn't one of their men in an effort to "purify" the land of anyone who was not of Darcsen or Jerithian blood.

Alan held his Yggdist spiral pendant to his chest as the pounding of shells began to explode down the street next to him. He threw a hasted thumbs-up at his squad hyperventilating in the opposite alleyway ten meters away as he cocked his ZM-AP7 for what may have been the most daring thing he'd ever done in his career outside of a tank. The Jerithian bastards down the road began to advance, putting their loaded- for-bear shocktroopers on point, ready to anything that moved with their Ruhm-37 assault rifles into a red cloud of vapor. Alan gave himself a deep breath, regretting in advance what he was about to do. By the Valkyrur, he was a tank-commander, not a bloody shocktrooper. He gave his autopistol a glance, admiring it like it was the last thing he would ever do as he set himself into motion into the street.

"Valkyrur give me strength…"

The young captain slipped out of cover, not even bothering to aim as he sprayed every round he could from his 45-round magazine into the cluster of Jerithian soldiers, taking them down in an impossible stroke of luck he could only credit to his faith. Conte slammed into the brick wall of the opposite alley where his squad was waiting, which to his confusion was absent of the late Stahl and Sergeant Gunther who was enjoying his leave back in Gallia. In Stahl's place was a Darcsen in his mid-twenties, armed with a Gallian-S/F and an engineering kit.

"Oh Stahl would just love to know his replacement is a good for nothing dark-hair. What's your name, FNG?"

"Karlsson, sir. Lieutenant First-Class Karlsson."

"Care to tell us your full name, Lieutenant? Oh wait! Well, Karlsson, stay the hell out of our way and we won't have any problems! Sacrifice yourself so we don't have to and you might earn some respect… Hayes, get your damn lance on the APC before it deploys!"

Hayes remained silent, not even offering any sign of acknowledgement to his commander beyond his action. As ordered, he flipped around the corner and glanced down his lance's aimpoint to fire off a rocket straight through the armor into a Jerithian APC stopping in the middle of the street as it began to open its door. Big mistake, it must be noted. A few flaming survivors limped out with their last dying throws until either the flames or the hail of rounds from Squad Nine claimed their lives.

"Take that ya uncivilized sons a' bitches! Courtesy a' Gallia!" Dahl yelled as he emptied his Brondel DMR's nine-round magazine into the Jerithian squad.

Conte fired off a few rounds for a moment, putting together the name "Karlsson" in his head to try and figure out where he remembered that from. The rest of the squad continued to fire, burning through magazines one by one as an onslaught of Jerithian zealots continued to pour into the crosshairs. Just then as Karlsson ducked into cover where Conte had a clear view of his face did he remember where he remembered that name.

"Hell, Karlsson? That you? Remember me, from Class A at Lanseal?"

Karlsson ignored him, loading a new cylinder-magazine under the barrel of his KFM-Koyot as he prepared to fend off another wave until Conte would give them the suicidal attack orders he always gave to his detachment back on the Lanseal training grounds. At least Conte had the balls to do it himself instead of telling other squads to do it so he could take credit. No, that was an action their class chair would do, using the squad as one big distraction while she and her socially awkward right-hand flanked the entire enemy squad to take their camp without being noticed.

"Karlsson? Come on man! Talk to- Damnit!"

Conte loaded a new magazine into his autopistol, reminded of the situation by a Jerithian sniper round whizzing past his ear. In a few more seconds that rifle would be freshly loaded with another round, ready to take the head off of one of his men unless they got out of his line of sight. Conte formed a hand-signal with his free hand, directing his squad into the alleyway on the opposite end of the street out of the sniper's view. With a new wave of Jerithians approaching at the far end of the road the entire squad made a sprint to the opposite alleyway, sliding into one of the abandoned tenement buildings through the back door. Conte peeked through a bullet-hole in the wall in silence, watching as a Jerithian patrol ran past to the next street in pursuit of his squad – Or at least where they thought his squad went.

"Conte, that was ten years ago. We've all moved on since then – Except you of course. Some of us are out here for better reasons than all the jingoistic propaganda thrown at us since childhood." Karlsson finally responded, applying Ragnaid to Dahl right below his right lung, "Come on, Corporal, that sniper wasn't even aiming for you. There's no internal bleeding, at least not yet. The adrenaline should keep you going for now…"

Conte looked down at Karlsson and Dahl, shaking his head before he looked outside again. It was all going to hell now, whether he liked it or not. This entire war was a losing battle from the start, even more so because of the ALF's sabotage of the Europan reinforcements to Avietan. It begged the question of why Haas – A man obviously from Europa – was dipping his hand into this war with the sole intent on aiding the Jerithians by any way possible. Even worse, Haas was a Darcsen, the kind of man Conte would have expected to be completely passive through all of this. But worst of all –

"Major Keyes to all ground units. All ground units are to re-form and regroup on the third defensive line in preparation for retreat and enactment of Broken Lance protocol." A voice rang out from Conte's handheld. In an instant Conte's train of thought went from bad to worse in a dangerous mix of frustration and panic.

"Damnit! We're ready to advance here, and command is telling us to fall back!" Conte yelled out, forgetting the entire reason he moved his squad to hide in the building. Everyone else nodded, silently agreeing with Major Keyes' order, ignorant of Conte's demeanor, all except Karlsson.

"Disregard Major Keyes' order! We're advancing, whether or not the Major wants all his men being passive, and most certainly whether or not he appreciates us!" Conte continued, trying to piece himself together in what already looked to be a losing battle.

The rest of the squad paused, looking to Conte with disdain as he gave the contradictory order. Hayes and Dahl shook their heads, silently refusing the Captain's orders. As much of a hardliner as Conte was, Major Keyes was even worse when it came to discipline among the ranks. Noone ever dared insubordination against someone like Keyes, except for Conte of course who was at this point lucky he hadn't been demoted or discharged for the last time he disobeyed orders from Keyes.

"Fine! Then I'll do it then, even if you two cowards want to fall back to Keyes' little shell which will fall anyway if something isn't done!"

The Captain and the other two jumped to alert, looking to the disturbance. There he was, Lieutenant Karlsson, readying himself for a daredevil charge on the first enemy position his eyes would have the pleasure to meet. Dahl and Hayes gave their damnedest expression towards the Darcsen, wondering why he would even bother listening to the Captain's suicidal orders – physically and career-wise. Besides, it was true-and-tested fact that getting yourself killed and/or discharged wasn't an effective way to rise above FNG status, if not it made people think of someone as an FNG even more.

"…Well ladies! It seems a dark-hair has more balls than you two cowards! Don't you find it damned embarrassing when the Valkyrur find more promise in a Darcsen than you two!?" Conte exclaimed, trying to drum up the glory-hound inside of Dahl and Hayes.

"Terrific. The Yggdist and the Darcsen – Two sides of the same coin-of-batshit – want to go on their own little suicide mission. Fine, I'm in, going to die out here anyways. Might as well make it sooner rather than later. Hayes?" Dahl begrudgingly replied, forming up with Conte and Karlsson, as did Hayes silent as ever. Conte smiled, cocking his autopistol like it was music to his ears as the mechanical clicks of the slide cycled to chamber its first round.

"Fine, Boss. Ain't letting no Darcsen outdo me. Let's do this… Assuming we even has a plan…" Hayes finally said, clicking a new lance-tip onto his AT lance.

"Aww, and here I was hoping you'd keep the whole silent thing going… You disappoint me sometimes, Hayes, and that's not including the sheer amount of times you've been in the field-hospital during the times we needed a lancer most." Dahl interjected with not one hint of sarcasm despite the obvious intent.

Conte opened the door back out into the alleyway, breathing in the polluted Avietanese air as he formulated a rough idea of what he was going to do. With his only Shocktrooper presently on-leave without a replacement, a frontal assault was out of the question. The Koyot and the AP7 wouldn't stand up against the R-38s the Jerithians had, the only reason they had lasted so long was because they were on the defensive in close-quarters. However, if his studies at Lanseal on the typical lack of balance between defense and offense seen in the Second Europan War had taught him anything… It was the perfect plan, one that had even defeated the so-called infallible Lieutenant Gunther a handful of times thirty years ago… With recklessness abound in him, and a new resolve brought about by how enthusiastic the Jerithians were to move all their units to attack, Captain Alan Conte cried out with enthusiasm of an uncanny resemblance:

"Now is the time to strike the Jerithians down as they think victory is within their grasp! Squad Nine, MOVE OUT!"

The entire squad sprinted out of the alleyway, keeping a rolling motion as they unloaded into the unsuspecting force that occupied the street. Dahl pounced over a pile of freshly emplaced sandbags, crushing the windpipe of the unsuspecting engineer on the other side with a lightning kick. On his flank Conte engaged in a brief duel with the Jerithian rifleman before he could get any shots off at Dahl, easily dispatching him in CQC making use of his one-handed pistol advantage. Behind them, one of the Jerithian gunners pulled up on his LMG emplacement, laughing maniacally until a remote explosive thrown by Karlsson shut him up. In-between all that chaos, a single rocket glided past them all, penetrating the exposed radiator of a Jerithian tank that had its back to them, lighting the midnight sky into a blazing inferno as Squad Nine regrouped to the flow of adrenaline.

"That. Just. Happened. Badass!" Hayes roared out into an explosive pride, crying to, no, worshipping the blaze before him.

"Heh, wish Gunther was here to see this." Dahl said as he cracked his knuckles.

"Keep it down, both of you. Just be glad he isn't here to jinx us." Conte disagreed to Dahl's banter, holding back a smile on his own luck.

"What do you mean, 'he', Captain?" Karlsson asked as he pulled up from the sandbags he had slipped behind.

"Different Gunther. Less of a bitch, more of an idiot." Conte replied. "His record is hell. He's bad luck for everyone – What, with his excessive gambling." Conte sighed and straightened out his Khaki uniform, reminiscing on the stories he had heard about Aaron Gunther. "I heard a story during the First Jerithian War that he had a bet his squad would run into an ambush in the jungle. Needless to say, Snipers saw them first and he was the only damned survivor. Hell, more recently… Rest in peace Kowalski…" Conte looked around for any vehicles he could see, giving a hand signal for a five-meter spread down the street towards a forsaken Jerithian Technical Truck. "…Needless to say, you want to live, don't get involved in his gambling in any way. His gambling luck doesn't translate into anyone else's luck."

"I see… Why hasn't he been disciplined for gambling?" Karlsson asked, following five meters behind Dahl's lead.

"He has been, too many times. Last I heard no one wants to touch him though. Anyway, I bet you that if he showed up in some UCIS gambling town he'd be lynched by week's end or vanished by the Mafia on account of him robbing the casinos." Dahl said, scanning around for Jerithian stragglers or reinforcements. An explosion rocked in the distance, reminding the chatterboxes of Squad Nine (Sans Hayes who had slipped back to his silent self) that they were in a warzone.

"Well everyone? We've got an enemy to annihilate. Let's show these slit-eyed chink Imperial puppets who here really runs Avietan!" Conte yelled as they closed in on the Technical. The men, including Karlsson cheered at Conte's racist and ironically imperialist remark as Karlsson hotwired the truck that the Jerithians had left by the wayside. The truck sluggishly coughed back to life as Karlsson violated the ignition with his toolkit. With one last kick the Ragnite engine began to emit its trademark icy glow as Karlsson wiped dirt off of the dashboard and windshield with the Darcsen-patterned cloth he had wrapped under his sleeves. "Alright everyone, get in back, stay off the gun unless you want to get sniped." Conte barked, getting into the shotgun-seat.

"Hold on tight jackasses, here we go!" Karlsson stuffed the cloth into one of his disused ammo pouches on his khaki uniform and stomped on the gas pedal. Conte loosened up his Yggdist pendant, letting it swing in the breeze going through the truck's cabin into Karlsson's view like a spider rappelling down as he tried to stay focused.

"Get us around to their camp, Karlsson. We'll capture their command-post first and cut off any direction they're getting." Conte shouted, sliding his pistol into the inside pocket of his uniform.

"Got it! Now, would you kindly get that symbol of oppression and genocide out of my face?!" Karlsson said as he weaved the truck around the streets, trying to avoid the attention of enemy patrols and tanks, to no avail as they were quickly spotted out travelling opposite the frontlines. A junk-shell recycled from EWII hit the side of the truck, dislodging Karlsson's door, detonating behind the truck into a pursuing AT-squad. Dahl leaned out over the side, spraying a few rounds at anyone foolish enough to be exposed while Conte tried to figure out what directions to give to Karlsson.

"There! Jump that ramp before a shell blows the engine! Straight into their camp!" Conte yelled, nearly grabbing the wheel from Karlsson.

"Hold on! This is going to hurt like hell!" Karlsson did a sudden sharp right-turn into the ramp, throwing off the aim of the AT squad in front of them. In the confusion a stray round hit Hayes, slipping him into misfiring his AT Lance as the Jeep flew through the open air.

"Holy hell! Bail!" One of them yelled in panic. Without question, all four barreled out midair into the enemy camp milliseconds before the rocket's fuse went off, forcing them to cower from the truck's shrapnel. As Conte looked up he recited one of his many Yggdist prayers, realizing Hayes' mistake managed to kill every Jerithian defending the base-camp, fully prepared for them thrice over. A childlike expression gripped his face as he walked his way towards the radio tent.

"Praise the Valkyrur! Praise the- Hey!" Conte said, stopped by Karlsson shoving him aside to point out the command tent. A single dark figure stood visible inside. The two walked up with as much silence as they could, hand-signaling Dahl to stay back and help Hayes.

"We've got… Her?" Karlsson said as Conte slid into the command tent. The enemy commander sat by her radio, silent and idle. Something about this didn't seem right whatsoever to Conte, to which Karlsson's expression concurred. She got up from her chair slowly as the two aimed their pistols at her as she smiled, now visibly a Darcsen.

"Another dark-hair working with the Jerithians. Did I miss some memo or something?" Conte asked, looking at her. Conte stared at her uniform, noting the various patches and links on it. On her collar resided a steel rectangular insignia bearing the traditional Darcsen pattern, held in by the cloth's seams. On her right shoulder there was a patch with another insignia, this time of with something of a raven or a crow. At the v-point of her collar was a brooch with the Imperial Eagle, as all officers of the Imperial army had. Conte hesitated for a moment, realizing that one of them might end up starting EWIII inadvertently. He'd heard the stories about a unit of Darcsens fighting for the Empire in EWII, but…

"Hands up, you've lost this one!" Conte yelled, placing his finger firm of his pistol's trigger. The Calamity Raven commander laughed and put her hands up in the air as she was told. As she slowly walked towards the two Gallians she said something in an old traditional Darcsen language that sounded inane to Conte, staring at the Yggdist symbol on Conte's neck in contempt. At not a moment's notice she reached down to her grenades and ripped out all the pins, dropping them below her as she lunged past Conte.

"Oh shit, Karlsson! Move!" Conte yelled, pushing the both of them out of the tent. A second later the grenades fired off, revealing themselves to be none more than smoke markers. "Where the hell did she go? Dahl, report!" Conte yelled out, sprinting around in panic.

"Whoever she was she disappeared like a ghost! Just slipped around the corner and then nothing! All I saw where she went were a few cardboard boxes, an oil drum, and a bucket. And yes sir, I checked them all!" Dahl reported, scanning around for any movements.

"Damnit! Damnit all to hell! Who the hell was she?!" Conte raged, nearly headbutting a wall. "Karlsson, take the radio and report in that enemy base camp is occupied. We're done here!"

"Affirmative, sir." Karlsson responded, shaking his head about the officer they had just encountered. "Just remember. At the end of the day, the battle was ours." He finished as he turned his back to commandeer the radio.

Yet alas, like every "victory" of the war so far, Squad Nine's maneuver at Newell in the end would amount to none more than a delaying action as an unstoppable Jerithian blitz pushed them back more and more to the capital, humiliating the might of the Federation and Gallia with every fallen soldier. The Second Jerithian War was only beginning, and the long road of suffering, betrayal, and loss had yet to be in sight for them…


Might be a bit of a wait on Chapter 8 by the way, got some overarching revisions coming for it, and in its present state it disappoints me. Needless to say, I don't push out something I don't like. It'l come when it looks decent enough in my eyes. AKA: WHEN IT'S DONE.

Codex will likely come out first though since I'm really only going to have to make sure it's simply grammatically correct. I just need someone who can remind me to get back to writing instead of playing Counter-Strike and Bioshock (Actually, revising/editing, not writing. I have a whole other 8 chapters written already after this that I have yet to edit and publish, a few of them (As well as this one), dating back to late 2012 before the infamous Call of Halo 4 released.).

Until then, enjoy. And if you haven't yet, go give the Gallian Liberation Front a like on Facebook. We need everyone we can get if we ever want to see VC3 in the west.